


falling from the stars

by brighidg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighidg/pseuds/brighidg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Ways Draco Malfoy Fell In Love With Astoria Greengrass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling from the stars

**i.**

Hearing that Hogwarts would be in need of a Finance Assistant in six weeks as the current one was about to take her maternity leave, he decided to apply for the job. Working at Hogwarts had never been part of his life plan but with the bulk of the Malfoy fortune still tied up in Ministry red tape and his job as a clerk in the Two Billywigs Inn being a dead-end, he didn't have many options. Hogwarts could prove a stepping-stone to a job at Gringotts and something with better wages and more prestige.

As he descended the staircase, music and laughter rang out from Great Hall. Tonight was the Leaving Ball for the seventh years. Seeing the castle decked out and students wearing their best dresses and robes, Draco was reminded of the Yule Ball. He had spent the hour before laughing at Crabbe and Goyle as they attempted to tie their cravats and boasting to anyone who would listen about how far Pansy would let him go. Later, he would sneak out with the rest of the boys to drink the whisky Theo had smuggled into the dance. That's where Pansy would find him, taking him by the hand and leading him off to some abandoned rosebush, Draco smirking at his mates over his shoulder as she did. Even if Snape hadn't discovered them, they were never going to get very far, but Draco still lied to his friends when he returned to the dorms.

Far from a perfect night - what with Potter and his friends stubbornly refusing to fall off the face of the earth and all - Draco had remembered feeling like it was a taste of what his life _should_ be like. It was very hard to believe now that he had ever been that carefree and naïve.

He watched the dancing couples, a moving sea of black and pastels. One girl stood out, tall and black-haired, she wore a dark green silk that showed off her pale shoulders. She moved with a natural grace that her partner lacked and Draco thought it a shame she wasn't with someone who knew what he was doing. 

She twirled in her partner's arms, allowing Draco a glimpse of her smiling face. It was the younger Greengrass girl whose name escaped him at the moment. Astrid? Astraea? Neither name fit though the second seemed closer. 

The song ended and the girl fanned herself, motioning towards the refreshment table. Draco watched her walk away, finally averting his gaze when he spotted Professor Vector giving him an odd look. Chin held high, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way towards the door. As the cool evening air hit him and he glanced up at the starry sky, the name came to him: _Astoria_.

**ii.**

Today had been disappointing. His tenure at Hogwarts had lasted nearly two years, longer than he had intended, and his new job at Gringotts wasn't as prestigious as he had hoped. Still, Draco had big plans. Browsing the “Foreign and Creature Language” shelves at Flourish and Blotts, he grabbed two books about Gobbledegook and flipped them over to compare. 

He was in the middle of one testimonial when a familiar strident voice caught his attention. Looking around, Draco spotted Granger – her hair still resembling a rat's nest – talking to Astoria. Judging from her apron, Astoria worked here, and judging from the expression on Granger's face, she was being her usual nagging self. They appeared to be arguing, or Granger was at any rate. Probably trying to bully people into supporting the “right” for house-elves to mate with wizards or whatever nonsense she got up to at the Ministry.

Curious, he looked around, expecting to see Potter or Weasley. Where one went, the other two were never far behind. Potter didn't seem to be around but Weasley was standing in front of a display of biographies looking every bit the ape he was, shoulders hunched and brow furrowed. Draco imagined all the words had left Weasley overwhelmed. He was tempted to point him in the direction of the pre-Hogwarts shelves but thought better of it. 

The words “Ministry” and “Divination” brought his attention back to Astoria's conversation with Granger. Moving closer under the guise of looking at books on “Muggle History,” Draco was close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“...Unspeakable training, you must know that what Trelawney was teaching at Hogwarts was a load of rubbish. Parlor games like palmistry and the tarot aren't comparable with the study of Arithmancy.”

If Astoria was annoyed by this, she didn't show it, instead giving a small serene smile as she considered what Granger had said. “I've always thought it interesting that people contrast Divination to Arithmancy, favoring the latter for its logic and scorning the former for being more intuitive. Do you suppose that has anything to do with Arithmancy traditionally being a masculine field and Divination a feminine one?”

Granger sputtered. “I-- I don't think it does. There are many famous female Arithmancers...Bridget--”

“Wenlock, yes. But you can't deny that they are the minority in a field dominated by wizards.”

“That's changing.”

“And that wizards are discouraged from going into Divination or even taking the class for fear they'll be seen as _soft_ or _weak_.”

“Which is unfortunate gender stereotyping, I agree.” 

“Much the same way the study of Charms is degraded and that's a core course.”

“Yes, but Charms and Divination are two very different things.” Draco rolled his eyes. He thought Divination was bollocks but he still rooted for Astoria to get Granger to admit she was wrong. “You even say so yourself--”

“Oi, Hermione! I have to be back at the shop in five minutes.” Spotting Draco, Weasley scowled. “What are you looking at, Malfoy?”

Draco sneered, drawling, “An ugly ginger ape.” 

Granger hurried forward, taking Weasley's arm and warning shrilly, “Just ignore him, Ron!”

Weasley muttered something in response; Draco couldn't hear all of it but could make out the words “ungrateful git”. Red-faced as he remembered _what_ he had to be 'grateful' for he called after the departing couple, “Yes, run along with mummy now, like a good boy!”

He found some grim satisfaction in Weasley flipping him off before Granger pushed him out the door.

Turning around, he rather hoped Astoria would be smiling or laughing at what he'd said, like Pansy had whenever he said something witty.

Instead, she was nowhere to be found.

**iii.**

 

“I want to speak to a Juriswizard.”

“You can't,” Longbottom said, his voice filled with pity and if Draco's hands weren't bound he'd have been tempted to punch him. He already had one charge for assaulting an Auror, what was a second? “The Ministry doesn't allow--”

“Me to have any rights, I forgot,” Draco spat.

“If you cooperate with us,” Proudfoot began, taking a seat at the table, “tell us who your accomplices were, we can work out a deal.”

“I can't tell you who my accomplices were because _I didn't do it_! What part of that can't you understand?”

This was a nightmare. He was awakened that morning by Aurors breaking down his door. Gringotts had been robbed and they found evidence that incriminated him. Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom had been among the three Aurors there to rifle through his flat and arrest him. Potter had explained the charges, reading him his 'rights', and being oh-so understanding when Draco resisted having his wrists bound that Draco had spit in his face.

Proudfoot had charged him with assaulting an Auror and, along with Longbottom, took him to the Ministry. 

The humiliation of again being lead through the Ministry as a criminal had nothing on his absolute terror at the prospect of going back to Azkaban. Draco had spent three nights there before his sentencing after the war and he was determined to never go back. He had no hope of a fair trial here, not ever, and not when someone was out to frame him. Resignation and resolve rose up in him as he realized his only hope was to run.

Longbottom was pacing back and forth, looking more bovine than usual as he watched Draco. Proudfoot scrubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, we found jewels from the vault that was robbed in your flat, we found blueprints for Gringotts in your flat, we have a motive--”

“You have nothing because I didn't do it! If I did it, why would I still be here?”

“Why don't you tell us--”

A knock at the door preceded a grim-faced Potter entering the room, followed by Astoria and two others Draco didn't recognize.

“Malfoy, you're free to leave. The charges have been dropped.”

Longbottom and Proudfoot exchanged looks. “What's going on, Harry?”

Astoria stepped forward. “The Department of Mysteries will be handling this investigation as it is outside the purview of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That's all you need to know for now. ” 

“That doesn't make any sense,” Proudfoot complained.

Potter waved his wand, undoing the Incarcerous on Draco's wrists. “Take it up with Dawlish and Youdle.”

 

**iv.**

“...Greengrass detected the unauthorized use of a Time-Turner. Gragg, Braddock, and Abercrombie came back to this year, robbed the vault using the information they had about the contents from 2007 and planted evidence to incriminate you and Ugnuk in the crime,” Corner explained, checking over his notes as he did. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“Yeah.” 

Three days after being arrested, Draco woke up to find to the Daily Prophet headlines proclaiming, “Time-Traveling Bank Robbers Foiled!” A Goblin, an MLE officer, and a Gringotts' worker had planned what could have been the perfect robbery, complete with two unwitting stooges to take the fall. The three current incarnations of the would-be bank robbers were being held at the Ministry while a debate brewed over whether or not they should be charged for a crime they technically hadn't committed yet. 

If it hadn't been for Unspeakable Greengrass, Draco would have been _lucky_ to rot in Azkaban. He'd spent the past few days at work listening to the Goblins – none of whom knew he could understand them - mutter what they'd do to those who had stole from them. Ugnuk had been so terrified he escaped from the Aurors and was still on the run, unaware he'd been cleared. 

Dressed in her scarlet-red Unspeakable robes, Astoria was easy to spot as she spoke with a few Goblins about the case. Normally, Draco didn't care for the color but it did look good on her, bringing out the fire in her cheeks, and the cut of the robes showed off her figure. Waiting till she had finished her conversation, he hurried over to her. “Unspeakable Greengrass!”

She turned, giving him a polite smile. “Mr. Malfoy, can I help you?”

“Yes, you can, actually. I was wondering if you'd consider joining me for lunch.” Draco shrugged, adding, “As a thank you for clearing my name.”

“That's my job,” she said, blushing. “You don't owe me anything.”

“Then let me buy you lunch because I want to.”

Understanding dawned on her face and his heart sank when she frowned. “I don't know--”

“Right.” Draco stepped back, wanting to get as far from there as possible. The rejection stung more than it should. After the week he'd had, the last thing he needed was more humiliation. “Okay then.”

Astoria's hands fluttered in a nervous motion. “You know what? Yes, I'd be happy to.”

“You don't have to humor me, Unspeakable Greengrass,” he said tightly, attempting a grin but winding up with a grimace on his face.

“No, I mean it. Let me just give my notes to Corner and we can go.”

 

**v.**

As had become his habit, Griphook waited till Draco had left before locking up for the night. While the war had made most of the Goblins even more distrustful of wizards and Draco was still receiving wary looks from some even after having been cleared of any wrong-doing two weeks ago, he knew Griphook's problem with him was more personal and extended back to that night at Malfoy Manor. 

It was a warm summer night and most of the shops on Diagon Alley were closed, save for an outdoor café down the street and The Leaky Cauldron. Draco stopped outside the latter, peering in, looking for anyone he might know and want to avoid. He was about to step inside when he spotted the barmaid - a Hufflepuff from his year whose name he never bothered to learn - make her way over to a table occupied by Longbottom, Potter, Granger and _three_ Weasleys. Lingering by the door for a moment, Draco thought better of it and continued down the street. Other than work keeping him busy, he declined escorting Astoria to a Ministry dinner held tonight just so he wouldn't run into any of them. He was still sorely tempted to go over and demand an apology from the three Aurors. 

On the bright side, if they had returned from the Ministry already, then Astoria should have as well. Draco had just made up his mind to swing by her flat when he spotted her standing by one of the tables at the café talking to another woman. He slowed in his steps, drinking in the sight of her, her hair loose around her shoulders and wearing a shimmering silver sheath that made him think she belonged in the night sky with the rest of the stars. 

“Draco,” she said, smiling. Bidding good-bye to the other woman, Astoria greeted him with a light kiss on the cheek. “I didn't think you'd be off work this early.”

“Neither did I. Do you want to have a seat?” he asked, waving at the many empty tables around them. He wasn't hungry but the café served wine along with its usual coffee and meals. Besides that, the lanterns, sweet-smelling flowers and music from a street performer playing the violin nearby gave the area a pleasant ambiance.

“Actually, I was thinking I'd like to dance,” she told him shyly, taking his hand. 

“Here?” While not crowded by any means, there were still people around to see them.

“Why not? I was thinking how much I missed having someone to dance with at the dinner tonight.” Astoria traced her thumb over his knuckles. “Unless you don't know how.”

“I know how,” he said defiantly. Draco had spent a good chunk of his adolescence learning ballroom dancing from a witch old enough to be Dumbledore's mother. 

“Then there should be no problem.” Astoria took his hand, guiding it to her waist just as the violinist nearby moved into a slow, mournful tango. 

Moving awkwardly at first, Draco overcame his self-consciousness, losing himself in the feeling of her body flush against his as they danced cheek-to-cheek. 

“You're quite good at this,” she whispered, her breath tickling his neck. 

Thinking back to that night in June several years before, he smiled. “You're not so bad yourself.”


End file.
